


A rare night in

by galaxyostars



Series: The DMC Collection [2]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alcohol, Canon-Typical Violence, DMC Hanami Week, Girls with Guns, References DMC2 events, Richard Gere was hot, VHS was a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23661232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxyostars/pseuds/galaxyostars
Summary: Lady just wanted one night to herself.
Series: The DMC Collection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1387243
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	A rare night in

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not late to post. Dunno what you're talking about. AEST zones are active plotholes.

The only thing Lady was missing was a facemask. The overhead lights were off, the only illumination in the room being the faint glow of an aging lamp. A foot bath sat in front of her couch. Lady bumped the door of her fridge shut with her hip, three vodka mudshakes clasped between her fingers. Tonight was for her – all for her. No distractions, no demons, no jobs, no guns… just relaxation. She dropped the mudshakes onto the couch, smoothing out her comfy pink pajamas.

_Knock knock knock_.

Lady frowned over her shoulder. She marched to the door and swung it open.

Trish was still in full active get-up with her bolt-cut corset. Her skin practically glowed in the darkening hour. The demon opened her mouth to speak, but stopped short upon seeing Lady in her comfy pink floral pajamas. “Oh.”

“What.”

Perfect blonde eyebrows shot up. “…are you going to bed early?”

“I’m having a night in,” Lady said curtly. She crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame. “What do you want?”

Trish gave a wicked smile and pulled out her sunglasses, flicking them open to place on her nose. “Never mind,” she said softly. “I see you’re pre-occupied. Have a good night.”

Lady narrowed her eyes as Trish left her porch, but didn’t think much of it. If Trish wanted something, she could handle it herself for once.

_Pretty Woman_ ’s VHS tape waited patiently for Lady to crack open its case and push it into the player. But not yet. As she passed the bench, her free hand snagged a box of chocolates, which she tossed onto the coffee table next to her couch. She reached for the power button on her television-

The phone rang. Lady’s mis-matched eyes glowered at the aging cream culprit. She growled, stalking to it and pulling it off its hook. She stuck it between her head and shoulder. “Someone better be dying,” she snapped.

“ _Heeeey , Lady! How’re you doing!” _

Enzo. Of _course_. “I’m not in.”

“ _No- wait- don’t hang up-!_ ”

Lady slammed the phone back onto its receiver. She unplugged it from the wall for good measure.

No jobs. That’s all she wanted. An evening with no jobs. Was that too much to ask? Were the others not capable of handling themselves for more than twenty minutes at a time?

Lady snatched up a bottle of mudshake, cracking its lid open and taking a swig. It was almost _too_ sweet, almost _too inviting_. Whatever. She pushed the power button on her TV. The news channel fizzled to life.

She regretted leaving it on the news channel. A news anchor had taken refuge on top of a burning skyscraper, a camera capturing an assault helicopter launching rockets at a human figure. A flash of red seared through the darkness.

_Dante_.

“ _That’s right, Craig – the Ouroboros Corporation recently purchased and built an urban city. All these buildings appear to have been evacuated for this – and excuse the hyperbole – _epic _battle between man and assault chopper. Ouroboros has stated they are aware of incident as it unfolds, but have not released an action plan for the outbreak of demonic monsters in the area.”_

_“Did you say_ ‘demons’ _, Robert?_ ”

“ _I did, Craig, and this is not the first time the US has seen an outbreak of the creatures, though the last time was about one decade ago with the rise of some kind of tower in Red City-”_

Lady slammed her thumb into the source button on her television remote. Dante. Fighting a god-damn helicopter. Seriously? He came out of his depressed slump for _that_? If it was a job, it’d gone from low profile to a damn Hollywood production.

_Maybe you should help him_ , a small part of her whispered. She shoved that thought down as soon as it rose. No. She would not help him. She refused. He hadn’t asked for her. And god forbid Dante ever do anything small in his life. Lady would stay right here in her flat, with her footbath, chocolate, and vodka mudshakes.

She grabbed the VHS remote, smashing the ‘play’ button. The tape whirled to life. And there he was. Richard Gere. Academy Award-winning pretty boy. There was no woman Lady knew (except maybe Trish, but did she technically count as a demon?) who did not want to be looked at the same way Richard Gere looked at Julia Roberts. _Ugh_. It made her chest ache. Demons could kick her around and she’d get up back quick, but Richard Gere could make _eyes_ at her and she’d be stuck in a blubbering puddle for _days_.

Just as Lady was about to put her feet in the mini bath, two harsh bangs on her door disturbed the film. She swept up a handgun under the coffee table and launched off her couch. If that was Enzo, she was about to rip him a new one-

The door burst open before she’d reached it. An upright, horse-like skeleton braced on its back legs huffed fire into her direction. Her trigger finger acted on instinct, each bang from her handgun was one step the demon horse stumbled backwards.

She kept firing, until finally, her clip was empty. The demon horse that had stood on its hind legs fell onto its back, a steaming pile of _dead_ on her porch.

Trish poked her head through the doorway, her eyes closed with her wide smile. “Looks like you got ‘em!”

The walking arsenal snaked her hand behind a flower pot, pulling out a grey revolver. She fired through the wall into where Trish was standing. Each shot was accented by her very angry voice, “ _I. Wanted. A. Night. Off._ ” She pointed at the dead demon, Trish having successfully dodged each of Lady’s shots (not unexpected, but fucking _infuriating_ for Lady). “Now _get this thing off my porch!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Would you believe me if I realised after writing for this prompt, it betters serves Day 1 and my Day 1 fic better serves Day 3? Lets just pretend that happened.
> 
> Catch me on Tumblr! galaxyistyping.tumblr.com


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